


The Wrong Move

by DoomedOTPs



Category: The Right Stuff (2020), The Right Stuff (TV 2020)
Genre: Glennard, Jalan, Pre-Slash, i guess?, rating basically for swearing, what even do you call this ship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29004645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomedOTPs/pseuds/DoomedOTPs
Summary: A closer look at THAT conversation in s1ep5, where Al basically goes running to John for help. Most of the dialogue is lifted from the episode. (No copyright infringement intended. Just a fun little fanfic because I accidentally started shipping these 2. I blame Patrick and Jake. 😂)P.S. I can't believe that there are NO fanfics in this fandom yet. HOW?!?
Relationships: John Glenn/Alan Shepard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	The Wrong Move

_Stupid. stupidstupidstupid. He was so fucking stupid! How could he do that? Why couldn't he just keep it in his pants? And now the whole program would be in jeopardy. And why the hell had he gone all the way to _Tijuana _to get laid? There were plenty of women he could've slept with right here in San Diego! Stupid. That's the only explanation. He was so fucking stupid; an arrogant, careless bastard._

Alan kept pacing back and forth, trying not to pull out all of his hair in frustration. He was pretty sure he was wearing the carpet thin at this point. He had spent the entire one-hour cab ride back to the hotel mentally berating himself. He was a test pilot - and a damn good one. He was accustomed to taking risks and living dangerously, but even **he** shouldn't have gotten this careless. _Damn it, Al, you've just screwed this up majorly. Who's gonna help you clean up this mess?_ Alan took out a cigarette and began to light it. He didn't know where to turn. Who could he trust with this secret? He didn't want anyone at NASA to find out. But if he did nothing, NASA would find out tomorrow anyway. So would the rest of the country. And his wife - _oh God, Louise!_ He couldn't let her find out like this - not from a newspaper; what would everyone say? 

She wouldn't be able to show her face around town. The kids would get bullied in school. And he would lose his chance to become the first man to go into space. The other guys would hate him; they had worked so hard and given up so much to get here. It wasn't _right_ \- it wasn't **fair** \- to lose all of this because of him. The other 6 guys hadn't done anything wrong. Gordo and Gus and Wally and Scott and Deke and John hadn't- _John_. Alan stopped in his tracks. _John. John Glenn. The boy scout. The one who never did anything wrong. The one who could charm women and men alike._ Wherever they went, people gathered to **see** them, but they mostly wanted to **hear** John. The man had a way with words. His easy smile and humble demeanor had endeared him to the whole nation. The handsome bastard was a smooth talker. If anyone knew how to get out of a jam, it was John Glenn. 

_But would he be willing to help?_ They weren't exactly _friends_. In fact, they seemed to be rivals. From Day 1, Alan knew his biggest competition would be one Major John Glenn, Marine Corps hero and media darling. Like Alan, John was very ambitious. He was determined to be the first man in space and wouldn't want anything to jeopardize his chances. _John might not be happy - scratch that, he would definitely be **unhappy** \- with the situation, but he would (hopefully) put his personal animosity aside... for the good of the program. Yes, John would help. After all, it would be the **right** thing to do; and you could usually count on a good man to do the right thing._ Having made up his mind, Alan left his hotel room and quickly strode over to John's - before his nerves could overtake him or his pride prevent him from asking for help. Alan still stood outside John's door for a full 5 minutes before he could bring himself to start knocking. 

~~~~~

John was almost done brushing his teeth when he heard a knock on the door. He was going to disregard it - it was probably one of the guests staying at the hotel who wanted an autograph or something - but the insistent knocking couldn't be ignored. John was surprised to find Shepard - Alan - at his door. It was late at night and they weren't exactly friends. There was no good reason for the man to be standing outside his door at this late hour. Worry began to form a knot in John's stomach. 

"I messed up," Alan said in lieu of a greeting, blunt and to-the-point as ever.

"You ok?" John asked, the concern in his voice genuine. 

"I did something stupid," Alan said before walking in - without invitation - and heading straight for the chair by John's bed. He started telling John what had happened. Once he began, it was like a dam had opened up and he couldn't stop talking. He spoke quickly, trying to get out all of the pertinent details while he could still recall them. Alan's head was pounding. He really shouldn't have drank so much down in Tijuana. 

"There's pictures; they're gonna run it tomorrow. There's a story that's going to come out in the damn _Harold_."

John's mind was reeling, trying to process everything that Alan was telling him. _A girl? There was a girl? In Tijuana? Why the_ hell _had Alan gone all the way to_ Tijuana _to hook up with someone? And WHY did he have to get caught_ this time _?_ John could feel a migraine coming on; he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand. _This couldn't be happening, not now - not when they were so close to their mission!_

"John, this could ruin the program. Everything we've worked for, everything we've sacrificed, everything we dreamed of... it could all end **tomorrow** because of _me_!" 

A million different things were going through John's mind at the moment, but the one thing that jumped to the forefront was the desperation in Alan's voice. These pictures would ruin his life; they could potentially destroy everything he's ever worked for. A lifetime of sacrifice and achievements, nullified in a single moment - all because of one reckless mistake. _No_. John couldn't let that happen. _It wasn't fair to Alan. It wasn't fair to the other astronauts and it certainly wasn't fair to_ **him.** Sure, Al was an arrogant, insufferable asshole sometimes, but he was also a damn good pilot. He **belonged** here; he pushed John like no one else did, challenged him when most others deferred to his judgment. John couldn't afford to lose the handsome devil sitting before him. 

"Al. Hey. I'm gonna take care of this. Alright? You just... go to bed; sleep this off." 

Alan looked up at John then, his blue eyes leaving the floor to look directly into John's green ones. The Lieutenant Commander seemed at a loss for words. He wanted to say thank you to the Major, but the words just wouldn't come out. They didn't do... mushy feelings. Hell, earlier, when everyone had been sharing stories down at the beach, Alan hadn't been able to finish his story. He got choked up whenever he tried to express his emotions too much. As if sensing that, John got up and walked over, urging the other man to get up and go back to his own room. John had made a promise, albeit a rash one, and he intended to follow through with it. And he certainly couldn't do that with Al distracting him; the man's mere presence was making it hard to think right now. 

After only a few steps, Alan stopped and turned out. The fear and panic were evident in his voice as he said, "John, NASA can't find out. The order is coming down-"

"Go get some sleep," John interjected. He placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Alan's shoulder. "And I'm on it."

Alan nodded slightly, his eyes saying everything his mouth couldn't. John walked Alan to the door. Just as he stepped over the threshold, John called out to him and got his attention again. "Hey, uh, no matter what... it means a lot that you came to me, Al. A whole lot."

They exchanged wordless good nights with nods and parted ways for the time being. John closed his door and sat down in the chair previously occupied by Alan. He thought for a while before he realized what he had to do. It wouldn't be easy, but if it worked it would definitely be worth it. 

~~~~~

Alan had walked out of John's room with a sense of calm that he had **no right** to possess at that moment. He could literally lose everything he cared about in a few hours: his wife, his kids, his good standing with the U.S. Navy, and his spot in the Mercury 7. He could lose everything, but he wasn't scared right now. Alan couldn't explain it, but he was confident that John would figure something out. The mild-mannered mid-westerner already had a thoughtful look in his eyes before he promised Alan a solution; he could tell that the gears were turning and that a plan was forming in that big, beautiful brain of his. John would know who to talk to, in order to make this all this go away. He could be really convincing when he wanted to be: just dial up that 1,000-watt smile and look at you with those gorgeous, green eyes and- Alan was getting distracted here, but the point was that John was a genius when it came to these things. The man could sell ice to Eskimos! Alan didn't know how, but he knew - with every fiber of his being - that John would figure out the solution to this mess. 

~~~~~

John sat on the chair for 10 minutes, trying to figure out how he had gotten dragged into this mess. He knew Alan's infidelity would come back to bite him in the ass one day, but he didn't think it could somehow screw him and the other guys over as well. Alan was a good-looking man, and the ladies were obviously charmed by him; so why did he feel the need to go to _another country_ to sleep with someone? I mean, there had to be someone close by, hell, someone in this hotel who would have been happy to take the New Hampshire native to bed. Alan could be quite charming when he wanted to be and John imagined he dialed up the charm to 100 when he was trying to get someone into his bed. The swagger wasn't quite as off-putting when he flexed those biceps and fixed his gaze on- John shook his head to clear it from the unbidden and distracting thoughts. He had a job to do; a mission, if you will. The wrong move now would spell disaster for everyone involved and John couldn't - **wouldn't** \- let that happen! Al was depending on him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but I suddenly got cold feet when writing about them romantically. (All I could do is picture the real people that Patrick & Jake are portraying. 😔) Maybe I'll work up the courage someday... for now, enjoy this in-depth pre-slash fic. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. 😁
> 
> I'm dedicating this fic to peter-ohara on tumblr; thanks for motivating me to actually write a Glennard fic for this fandom. Sorry it's not the romance fic you were probably expecting. 😬 I hope you still enjoy it.


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